Srisha Births a Nation

Lyrisha

In the time of Before. Whorls. Whirls. A Looking Glass. Lyrisha stepped into the breech, squatted down and birthed Pangaea. Beholding her child she cut the umbilical cord, flung the afterbirth to the sky and she proclaimed I am the Seed Giving Mother. Melanated being swirling, twirling, whirling dervishes in Praise to the Most High!

SiStar Luna has blessed us with a full Blood Moon. A Conjuring time has settled in. Cleansing, purifying, Blood Season.

Re-absorption has begun. A Virgin gathers thorns.

Click — Click — Click

I welcome SiSta Luna and drink in her Essence. Then I became Moon Goddess cast into MoonLit Silver bars. Shadows creep from beyond the hedges. Minerva anointed Mother Earth Scared Scented Oils undulated through germinated Blossoms.

Moonbeams eek through nectar blooms washes over land sweetened with adjoining rivers, brooks, lakes, oceans, seas subsumed across the Universe. Who is she who sliced the reeds. Behold a predator lurks among the bulrushes. Pierced by a shaft of solar eclipse he goes to dust. Taken in by Gaia to be resurrected flora. Who bigged your belly so soft, moist and round? Nudes in the sand grain upon grain. Assembling Diana rides the Night breezes. I was only a voyeur to dust and sand.

You are a silent movie in a sea of captivated cacophony. A Paradox? A Life? Palindrome. Symbiosis.

Fecundity of the forest is our temple Goddess in a Land kisst by Solaria. Arcadian rhythms beat out season-less suns.

Tendersea breathe deeply.